


Burnt Remnants of a Report

by TheTalkingRooster



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Don't expect friendship, Gen, I'm just going to say this here, Pan is an Agarthan here, Spoilers, TWSITD are assholes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26722312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTalkingRooster/pseuds/TheTalkingRooster
Summary: The Tale of Loog is well known to those who inhabit Fodlan. His victory over Adrestria spelt the creation of Faerghus and the first divide in the empire. Though, it may seem his story is an underdog one, he was said to have outside help aiding him.Who was this mysterious Pan fellow anyway?Inspired by the book found in Abyss, "Burnt Remnants of a Report, where Pan is speculated to be an Agarthan.
Kudos: 3





	Burnt Remnants of a Report

"I have been reading about the history of Faerghus, you know. The Kingdom's founder, Loog, the 'King of Lions,' had two advisors. One of them was Pan, the 'undesiring strategist.' According to historical records, Pan wanted nothing for himself. He devoted himself entirely to Loog. He had tremendous power, but he never seemed concerned about his legacy. So, in the old chronicles, there is hardly any mention of Pan's deeds. All that we know is that he helped Loog, his friend and leader."

The crest bearer of Saint Cichol has indeed read up on Faerghus history well. The King of Lions did have two advisors. Of them, there was Kyphon, a Fraldarius Knight who stood by his Lord's side into battle and into death. His history is well known and has been chronicled in the book called "The Sword of Kyphon." 

The other advisor, though known in name, is much more of a mystery. Not much is known about Pan. His history. His ancestry. Even his last name were never revealed. Legends have it that he appeared on a foggy morn in front of the two lords as they were fleeing for their lives and had singlehandedly defeated their assailants. His power, which was now known to them, convinced Loog to quickly ask the mage to join his company and without any negotiation or clarification, Pan had readily accepted. This fateful encounter would change Fodlan forever.

Alas, though the tale of Loog is well known, there are bound to be mysteries that shall remain hidden in the dark...

But known to the few  
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

The magic of the Agarthans was born out of the dark. It festered in long forgotten blood streams and clawed into the earth in order to hide from the light. The so called reason and faith magic the beasts had taken to had come from the heavens or more accurately, the stars. It was born of sky and light and with it, weakness. The False God had introduced the magic as a safe alternative for her beasts. For, unlike the dark magic that infested blood, her born magic stole from the elements. It took and it took and it never gave anything back. It was safe because it was unrelenting. Dark magic borrowed and as such, was much more dangerous. For what was taken from the earth must be returned.

So while once blood had filled his veins, black sludge had replaced most of it. When it inevitably found its way throughout his whole body and into his heart, he would die a painfull cursed death full of unhappiness and despair. He didn’t mind that, though, because said fate was his destiny. Fueling Shambala's defenses with magic was the duty of any Agarthan castor who was not chosen for future bloodlines. While his blood was not by any means weak, it had proven lesser compared to the available stock his year and thus, it was his duty to die. 

However, this desired fate was overwritten during a ceremony to foresee Shambala's future conquest of the land above. The Seers of old had long foretold the best course the Agarthans could take to such a destiny. Their visions marked carefully laid actions that all Agarthans were destined to follow if they involved them. Who lead them. Who fed them. Who had relations with who. All of this was decided by these Seers and would continue to be decided by them. His name had never come up during their visions but one day, it did. 

The Seer who had led the vision had cried out. Tears ran down her face as she gave her wisdom. 

"In latent moon, I find thee  
Blue Lion of old fate  
Come find your sword  
So that you may cut down the eagle in twain   
The deer bucks under thy paw  
And will see your fate on bloodied field  
Come Man of Beast's bane  
Act as tamer of our fate  
Guide these animals   
To Death's Gate"

Amongst her wailings for death, she had apparently said his name and so, while the remaining living Seers assessed her final words, he waited to be called. 

Despite his nonexistent nerves, he noticed quickly that he was fidgeting in place and as a result, his surroundings suddenly became more interesting. The room itself was well furnished, with paintings and photographs lining the walls and a relatively soft carpet resting on marble flooring. While the photos were yellowing on their edges, they still maintained their preserved image well and for a moment, he found himself staring at one in particular. The photograph wasn't especially well taken but that was simply because of the subject matter. It was the Sun in all its glory. The rays had basically blinded the rest of the scenery the photographer might’ve taken to and the sun itself bled into the bright sky. It was only distinguished by its overwhelming presence. 

The False God was also said to have such features. Bright. Overwhelming. Terrible. 

He would’ve spat at the image if a voice didn’t interrupt him.

"Does 'Helios's Folly' interest you?" She chuckled. "I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Most of our kind haven’t seen the Sun in their lifetime or any star for that matter."

He huffed at that. "Hardly. Such light should be scorned if it provides for the beasts above."

She smiled at that and before he knew it, she was standing by his side staring at the photo as well. He didn’t turn to her but he caught a glimpse of her bright orange hair. An assassin then. No wonder she spoke of the Sun so fervently. She probably visited the land above before. If she did her duty well, she would not die there.

"Perhaps so but when we take our rightful places, it will be that ball of gas that provides for us. It is not a god after all."

He scowl softened for a moment before returning to its natural state. He was here for a reason after all.

"What do the Seers say then? What fate have they bestowed upon me?"

She didn’t answer but simply grabbed his arm and led him towards the door she came from. Another voice called out as he entered.

"Pan, son of Hermès, welcome!"  
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

He found himself hating that bitch of a Seer. How dare she! How dare she destine him to such a fate. To aide a swine, a mere beast from the land above. He would rather die than see such a beast standing alive before him and under his protection no less. It was their destiny to slay these beasts, not help them in their petty quests. He would sooner see the land above casted into darkness before he gave his time, his life, for such creatures.

But the Seer's words had precedence over his feelings. Because while he would be helping a beast, the series of events set in motion by his aide would assure Agarthan victory several centuries from now. His pride could be sacrificed. All of Shambala would be sacrificed if it was necessary for such a fate to come to pass.

This new fate was also why the assassin was the one to greet him. Her experience in the land above lent her some credence for his training and inevitable departure. She would not accompany him during his journey but she would serve as a messenger if it was required of her. The Seers would continue to direct his actions above but from what he had been told, fate tended to go its way no matter what. Their visions would mostly serve as warnings if they felt he needed them. 

Since his fate was changed from inevitable death to uncertain future, the surgeons of Shambala quickly set out to drain him of his black blood. It would do him no good if he keeled over from a simple Miasma spell not long into his quest. The process was painful and while he was under, he overheard one the surgeons going on a tangent about the history of the technique. Apparently when the original beasts were slain, their blood had been drained and fed directly into the cannibalistic elites. This event was what granted those above their blood magic but said history was ironically hidden from them out of their own safety. He would’ve laughed if he could move. To think the False God's teachings would be desecrated by her own creations. What ungrateful little welps. He forgot this thought the moment it occurred. To feel any sympathy for the False God was unnatural onto itself.

When the procedure was finally done, he found himself looking at the needle running through his arm. A red substance marked the edge of its entry and he quietly remembered the color of blood was not black. 

The preparations for his destiny would continue through training and language learning. Some practices, however, were much more pleasant than others.

While he was training with his javelin, one of his attendants pulled him aside. As he led him towards the dungeons, his temper steadily soared. He knew what this was and he already found himself preparing his outright refusal of such a practice. When they arrived, the assassin stood before three beasts. They were bloodied and beaten and from the looks of their stomachs, starved. He instinctively spat at them and as they flinched, the others around him laughed.

The assassin blinked prettily but it did not stifle his rage. "Pick one," she said. "I know its hard to tell by their current appearance but above, the bitches rouse themselves for their looks."

They stared at him in anticipation and he rewarded their smiles with a scowl. "None. I would not defile myself for such an appearance."

They quieted at that and despite the smile remaining on her lips, the assassin's eyes changed. "Is that so?" she hissed. "Would you then reveal yourself to their hoard and expose the rest of us? How dare you?!"

He heard the deflection of the dagger before he saw it. Before him stood a man. He was taller than anyone else in the room and the furs he was decorated in revealed his status. 

"Theseus, how dare you—?!"

"Medea, silence your yammering. Would you jeopardize our victory out of petty squabbling?" She bit her tongue at this but remained silent otherwise. With her temper quelled, Theseus turned towards him. He shivered under his gaze. "And what of you little one? What causes your tongue to lash out as such?"

They were all looking at him now but Theseus did not pressure him to speak. Instead, his white pupils stared absently at him, waiting for him to say his piece. 

He would've found it comforting if he wasn’t so terrified.

He cleared his throat before answering but a part of his voice still quaked, "I am sor-ry my lor-d. I sim-ply can’t throw a-way my pride as an Agarth-an—" he steadied himself before continuing—"to disguise myself as such beasts would be an insult to our kind. We are above them. Why should we hide in their skins!"

He did not mean for that last part of be an exclamation but it came out that way. Whispers were abound at his words and even Medea stared at him with some sort of understanding. He felt proud as her gaze lingered.

Theseus remained silent for his part until he broke off into a quiet chuckle. "Heh, I had almost forgotten your previous status. Your duty before this was reinforcing our defenses, correct? I will not blame you for taking pride in your appearance then."

Shaken from her reverence, Medea stammered, "But sir, he can’t simply walk out there the way he is! He'll put us all in danger!"

Theseus only smiled at her words. "I’m not certain that is the case, Medea. His appearance is still rather youthful and soft for our kind. Look!" In an outright breach of personal space, Theseus grabbed his chin and began inspecting his features. "The blood procedure has returned some color to his face. If I’m not mistaken, he could pass as an Albino."

The word was lost on him but Medea seemed to see where he was coming from. She approached and stared at his face assessing him. 

"White hair. Red eyes..." She nodded. "I can see it. I’ve seen some of those types occasionally. He fits the bill pretty well."

"And he doesn’t have to worry about any markings," Theseus added. "His previous class involves none of our symbols."

His attention shifted to the teardrop marking under Medea's left eye. Theseus appeared to have no outright markings but the line of black hair amongst the white was common for his status. For a moment, he was jealous but he quickly suffocated that thought. If he could keep his appearance as it was, he would not complain.

"Yes," Medea continued. "This is acceptable but what will we do with them then?"

The beasts whimpered as they are remembered. Fools. Did they think they could be spared.

Theseus shared such a sentiment judging by the smirk that now decorated his face. "Yes. What will we do with them? Are any of them crested, Medea?"

"No." She licked her lips. "I don’t think any of them are."

"Excellent. I’ve heard the trade route between Ordelia and Gloucester is rather peaceful this time of year. Think you can fix that?"

As the beasts began crying for mercy, he was led back to the training ground.   
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

The day of his ascension came sooner than expected. A sudden shift in visions changed his meeting with the beasts from night to day and several months earlier. If he was to warp to his destination in time, he had to begin traveling by shadows now. 

Dressed in common beastly garb, he found himself staring at his new outfit. Compared to the heavy robes of the Agarthan mages, the ones he now wore were lighter in weight and in color. The sleeves were still long and the gloves remained to hide the scarring black magic left him with. Despite the blood procedure, some consequences of using the magic remained and would continue to fester through his continued usage. Besides the lance on his back, his magic remained his main weapon for combat and if they were to divide the empire, blood would inevitably be spilt. He smiled at that. The mere opportunity to slaughter some beasts excited him.

Medea and his other attendants saw off him at the gate. A castor stood off to the side and diligently marked out a wrap circle. While he tried to understand the markings in the circle's edges, Medea snapped for his attention.

"Pan, do you understand your mission?"

He nodded. "I am to warp ahead of my charge and wait for them along the side of the road. I will then accompany them and serve the fate that will come to pass as their...advisor and protector." After all this times, he still gagged at the words. Aiding a beast. How disgusting. Despite this, the contents in his stomach remained. Though, if he read the distance on warp right, he might still lose them anyway.

Medea didn’t mention if she noticed his queasiness as she replied. "Correct. If the Seers provide any additional visions, I will contact you. Otherwise, if you have any problems, do not expect our aide."

"Understood."

The conversation ended with that and once the castor finished the circle, he stepped inside it without another word. 

His fate was left to him.


End file.
